More Than One Road
by nelliesbones
Summary: This is a pregnancy- and baby-free storyline which picks up after Hole in the Heart... because there's more than one road to eventually. Warmhearted, spoilerfree and M for a reason.
1. The Moments That Were

_This is a pregnancy- and baby-free storyline which picks up after Hole in the Heart... because there's more than one road to eventually. _

MORE THAN ONE ROAD

I. The Moments That Were

He had lost himself in her milky-white skin, her softness, her grief, her warmth. Had lost one piece of him in each kiss, each caress, until he had been utterly and completely lost. In her.

She had found herself in his strength, his eyes, the safe circle of his arms. Had found pieces of herself, another self, though, in each kiss, each sigh, each touch. Until she was achingly whole. With him.

It had been a night fallen out of time. It had been an end, perhaps it had been a beginning. Most definitely, it had been a change.

Morning had come, finding two people beautifully entangled in each other. Daylight had shone at a picture never seen before, a sight so new to his eyes as he opened them and almost too big for her to take in when she had found his gaze on herself.

A smile, tentative but brave, had been the bridge; the bridge to a new day.

Then there had been breakfast. A fallen killer. A goodbye. A song.

And at the end of this day which had been so surreal and painful, he had driven her home, wishing goodnight while his fingers had grazed her knuckles. While his eyes had wondered if he could get another night of her. She had never been one for subtle, though, and since he hadn't asked to come in, she hadn't dared to offer it. Remembering two choices and a line. Wondering if that line had already been crossed.

Later that night, he was lying between her scent in crumbled sheets. She was hugging her pillow, soft but cool to the touch, a sad substitute for the warmth he had wrapped around her just a few hours ago.

Another day happened. And one more. Spring turned into summer. Flowers on a grave withered. Memories were buried, but they did not fade. Life happened.

There were moments, oh so very many moments when his eyes lingered on her, remembering her flushed face, the sheer wonder in her eyes. Moments when she caught a whiff of his scent and her stomach would clench in beautiful recognition. They didn't talk about it, though, this one night. Neither of them was brave enough to mention it, both of them too scared to gamble on such a precious memory. Not even for the sake of a blissful future. There was warmth, however, a new kind of warmth, and they continued their age-old dance around and with each other. But this time... their steps suddenly matched...

This is a story about a man a woman. She was beautiful, so beautiful, and he was strong and lionhearted. He didn't know that her beauty shone the brightest when he was around. And she didn't know that his big heart felt less empty since he had met her. But maybe... they were beginning to grasp it.

This is a story about roads and ends and beginnings. Because however freely you roam, touching stars, choosing paths, there are some things long decided. Moments you don't have to reevaluate because they were meant to happen no matter if you turn left or right. The only thing you may never do is stop. Give up. Because in the end, you will get there. Where? Well, that one you can only understand in the end.

Everything happens eventually?

By no means. The good stuff, however, it does.

To be continued...


	2. The Step That Happened

II. The Step That Happened

The next step was rather an accident than a step. Heat came early this year, covering the city in laziness, but early summer brought an unexpected twist, a twist in the form of Booth's neighbor, a broken terrarium and ten poisonous snakes on the loose.

He could have found himself a hotel, the insurance might have covered it, but since Booth was her friend and Brennan had more than enough space, offering him her guestroom was the reasonable thing to do.

Unbeknownst to Brennan, her careful proposal came along with a rosy flush covering her cheeks; unbeknownst to Booth, his eyes turned a few shades darker, as he met her gaze.

Nobody would have noticed, would have thought anything about it. If only Cam hadn't been around to witness the exchange, if only the pathologist hadn't felt the pleasant thrill as if her favorite soap opera had been picked up for another season.

Later that night, struggling with two grocery bags – after all, she had to feed Booth for the next days – Brennan opened the door to her air-conditioned apartment. Had it been wise to invite her partner into her home? She didn't know. Off late, it was hard to tell.

There was nothing reasonable about the fluttering sensation inside of her. She liked the idea of having Booth around, but it made her nauseous nonetheless. Part of her was afraid of letting him in. Another part, however, was afraid that he might not want to come in.

Ever since he had loved her – because that was what he had done during that night – it felt as if she was on the verge of falling. And there was no parachute, no safety net to catch her. No idea how the landing would be.

A knock on the door interrupted her confused musings.

'I should give him a key,' she thought while opening the door, and there he was. A small bag in his hand, a fragile smile on his face.

"I changed my mind about snakes."

Her smile matched his own, as she opened the door to let him step inside.

"I never liked them in the first place. They're mean."

"Even Adam and Eve knew that."

She shrugged.

"I don't know. They lost paradise, but at least they could finally see the truth."

"But what kind of truth? Bones, you really wanna discuss religion with me?"

"Probably not. You can store your things in the guestroom."

There was a moment of awkward eye contact, and then he nodded in gratitude. Wondering about snakes – after all, they stood for seduction – Booth made himself at home in her home, unpacking a bag, testing a bed. She would be there, only one wall away. A wall which hadn't stopped them the last time. Soft footfalls alerted him to her presence, and then she manifested in the door frame.

"Are you hungry? I could cook."

He arched one careful eyebrow.

"Veggie stuff?"

"What about pizza?"

A grin was her reward.

"I'm always in the mood for pizza. Give me a second, and I'll join you."

The dough was smooth, the tomatoes fresh. They kneaded and sliced in unison, a glass of wine next to her, a bottle of beer for him. His brand. He had changed into jeans, his muscles playing under a simple black tee. She was wearing a ponytail and no shoes. Neither of them mentioned how warm and domestic it felt; both of them recognized it, though.

He poured her a second glass of wine, opened himself another bottle of beer, as the scent of pizza began to fill the air. They talked about snakes, the sudden heat wave, their latest case. Safe topics, nothing too serious. However, it was a conversation, one kind of sharing.

Listening to him, she tilted her head while playing with the hem of her glass, and, suddenly, the long curve of her white neck threw him back in time, reminding him of another night when the tender flesh of her throat had dazzled him. And, just for a moment, he found it hard to swallow.

But tonight was different. They had crossed the line once, seeking comfort in despair. There was nothing desperate about tonight. If Parker had been there, he would have said that it was fun because pizza meant fun. So... fun it was.

Engrossed in their easy conversation, they forgot about their meal, and it was slightly burned when they finally tasted it. They ate the pizza with fingers, standing around her kitchen counter, no expensive dishes, no need to pretend formality. She watched the tomato sauce running down his fingers, her gaze drawn to his tongue, as he slurped it away.

His tongue... Taking a deep breath, Brennan was surprised by the rush of heat she felt. And over a plate of pizza, their eyes locked... for one moment... and another.

Clearing his throat, Booth finally put his half-eaten piece away.

"Bones, thanks for letting me stay."

"Of course. You're my friend, and this is a friendly offer."

"Sure."

"After all, you've let me stay as well."

'That hadn't been a friendly offer.' The words were on his tongue, they truly were, but suddenly he found it hard to speak. Again.

"Bones... the other night-"

"No, please," she interrupted him, afraid that whatever he might say would destroy something she wasn't ready to let go of. "Do you... do you regret it?"

Avoiding his gaze and his answer, she played with a piece of crust in front of her.

"No! No, of course not. It's just..."

Inhaling deeply, she finally found the courage to meet his eyes.

"What is it?"

Her voice was soft, almost like a caress.

"I don't want you to think that I'm a jerk. Taking advantage of you or something like that."

"I don't want you to think that I merely satisfied an urge."

"You didn't?"

He sounded almost cocky, and she couldn't suppress a shy smile.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know."

His dark voice was like velvet, causing the hair on her arms to tingle.

"That night... _our__ night_, it's precious to me," she finally admitted, and he was only seconds away from circling the counter and pulling her into his arms. Seconds which divided friendship and tender affection from something else entirely.

"I know. Are we... are we okay?"

Reaching out one hand and brushing her cheek was all he dared to do, and her eyes sparkled at the unexpected caress.

"I think so."

"I think so, too."

There was more he wanted to say, of course, more she could have added. About the ache inside of her, for example, or about her moans which came back to him at night. For now, however, it was okay, and they finished their pizza, finished their drinks. Later that night, she disappeared into her bedroom with a whispered goodnight, and, lying on the other side of the wall, Booth felt as close to her as if she had been in his arms.

It had hardly been a step. But, suddenly, there was a whole road lying ahead of them.

To be continued...


	3. The Coffee in the Morning

III. The Coffee in the Morning

The ringing of his alarm bell was familiar. The rest... not so. It wasn't his room, wasn't his bed. Booth blinked once, twice, and then everything came back to him. The snakes. Bones. He was in Bones' apartment. With her next door. Suddenly, he was very much awake, but before he could bounce out of bed, a knock on the door stopped him.

"Yeah?"

The door opened, revealing a tousled Brennan with two mugs in her hands. She was wearing her robe over bare legs, her face young and undisguised.

"Good morning," she said with a smile, and, "coffee?"

"Wow, that's awfully nice."

The smile on her face deepened.

"Whenever I was sick or upset as a child, my mother used to bring me hot chocolate in the morning. I figured you might be upset but prefer coffee."

Maybe it was because he was barely awake, maybe just because it truly was awfully nice, but upon accepting his mug, he tugged at her hand until she was sitting on the mattress next to him. The coffee warmed his hands, the gesture his heart, and, sipping the hot brew, he took in her disheveled early morning beauty. He had seen her like this before, four or five times...

In an undercover hotel room in Vegas, in a happy little circus trailer, in a cool house in the middle of the desert, in her own living-room with a deep sea welder in her wake and... and the other time, the morning she had woken up in his arms.

Outstretching his hand, he tucked a silky lock behind her ear, and she smiled at him over her mug.

"How did you sleep?"

"Good. Very good."

"Dreams?"

"Yeah... something about a bunny."

Her laughter came by surprise, and she chocked on her coffee.

"At least it hasn't been a snake."

"What about you? I hope I didn't snore too much."

Tilting her head, she regarded him openly.

"Since I've been one room away, I'm hardly in the position to tell."

Their eyes locked, pale blue and dark brown.

"From what I remember, your snoring is very soothing, though," she finally added, and he was almost certain that his heart had skipped a beat.

And, suddenly, one door was open, if only an inch.

"From what I remember, you talk in sleep."

"I never thanked you."

"You don't have to."

Another curl had fallen into her face, and, just like the former one, he pushed it behind her ear, enjoying the silkiness between his callous fingers.

"Because I'm your friend?" she asked shyly, and he had to laugh tenderly.

"Because you're my Bones."

No coffee had ever been so good, and between morning and day, they had found another moment of unadulterated honesty. The sun was shining in, still mild and gentle, and the smile they shared was almost as intimate as everything they had ever done.

He was whistling in the shower. She took her time to dress. It was a new day with new challenges, but somehow it was different because the snakes had given them an excuse, and in the evening, he would come back to her. To her and coffee and pizza and laughter.

-BONES-

However, high expectations are predestined for some higher – or in this case lower – evil to shatter them, and somehow the day turned out to be one mess of a mess. What are the odds for an FBI agent to run into an armed robbery while stopping at the donut hose? What are the odds that said FBI agent ends up with a bullet in his upper arm thanks to his sweet tooth?

As he was sitting on the stretcher, the paramedic performing first aid on his bleeding wound, Booth thought about those odds.

"We have to remove that bullet, Sir."

"Yeah, sure, just do it."

He tried a nonchalant gesture with his hand but couldn't suppress a whine at the sudden pain. Fire, burning fire in his muscles.

"Not here. We have to take you to the hospital."

"Great, just great," he muttered.

Lying back on the stretcher, Booth tried to find a comfortable position, as the ambulance car started to move with an annoying howl.

As for Temperance Brennan... the really good news rarely start with the sound of a siren.

"Hi Bones."

"Booth, where are you? Are you chasing someone?"

"Uh, this is not a police siren. Listen, I might be running late tonight."

"Did you get stuck in an accident?"

"Sort of. I'm on my way to the hospital to get that bullet out of me."

"What?"

"It's not that bad, just my arm."

"Let me talk to the paramedic."

"Bones-"

"No, hand the phone over."

"Uh, hey?"

Booth tried to get the attention of the young man.

"My partner wants to talk to you."

Five minutes later, the paramedic's face had turned to an unhealthy shade of pale, and his hand was trembling slightly. He was visibly relieved, when he gave the phone back to his patient. Whatever that woman had been, he was pretty sure that he did not want to meet her. Or talk to her again. Never ever.

"Booth?"

"Was that necessary?"

"Yes. I needed the facts. I'm on my way. Don't let them give you anesthetics until I've arrived."

"What?"

"Listen, Booth," she almost hissed, "the last time they sedated you, you ended up in a coma for three days. I'm not going to let that happen again."

"Bones..."

"No. Don't 'Bones' me."

"It's just a scratch."

His voice had softened until he was almost whispering, meeting her whirling concerns with tenderness.

"You tend to lie about the severity of your condition."

"It barely hurts. They just have to get that bullet out of me, give me a few stitches and an ice pack, and I'm as good as new."

"Booth..."

His heart ached at the sudden vulnerability in her voice – how could she even do that by just saying his name? – and he let go of a heartfelt sigh.

"Come over, Bones. But don't worry, okay?"

Don't worry... Temperance Brennan tried her very best not to do it, but, somewhere along the road, she had lost her ability to compartmentalize when it came to her partner. Rationally, she knew that he was okay. His voice hadn't sound too stressed when she had talked to him, and the paramedic had assured that it was merely a flesh wound, nothing severe. Still... she didn't want Booth to hurt or bleed. The thought of one more scar marking his body – a body she had memorized from head to toe – caused a strange kind of pain inside of her.

The emotion was raw and despite its novelty, it reminded her of something she had seen before: the look in his eyes when she had been crying next to him during _that_ night, the look right before he had pulled her into his arms. And whatever it was... Brennan found that she wanted to hug him very much right now.

-BONES-

Booth didn't like hospitals. Never had. But he wasn't a scared child anymore, he was a real man, an FBI agent, for God's sake, so he just gritted his teeth as his injury was examined, thinking about baseball stats and one silky-haired woman.

Ten minutes later, a strict but very familiar voice outside the examination room caught his attention, and he couldn't hide the smile playing around his lips.

"I don't really care about your rules, I just wanna see my partner right now."

"You're neither his wife nor his sister Ms.-"

"_Doctor_."

"Right. Whatever. I cannot reveal personal information about a patient to someone who isn't-"

"Either you tell me where he is or I'll go and find him without your assistance."

"You cannot walk around in the ER..."

The gray-haired doctor looked at his patient with an amused grin.

"This woman belongs to you?"

"Yeah." Booth nodded not without pride. "I wanna have her here."

Bracing himself against her fury, Booth watched the doctor opening the door, and, a few seconds later, his partner rushed in, an angry flush covering her cheeks. However, the moment she saw him, her eyes dropped shut, as she exhaled in relief, and then she was by his side, a quick glance checking the wound in his left arm.

"How are you? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"Nope. It just stings."

"What about the bullet?"

The doctor behind them cleared his throat.

"I was just about to remove it, but Mr. Booth refused local anesthesia."

"What do you intend to give him? He has a history of intolerance."

The doctor and Brennan switched to squinty mode, but it didn't take long until they seemed to agree on something. At the appearance of a syringe, hell, an awfully long needle, Booth swallowed hard, reminding himself once more that he was a tough FBI guy, but then... right before he was about to squeeze his eyes shut nonetheless... a small hand slipped into his right one.

Shifting his head, Booth saw her fingers linked with his, saw and felt her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing caress. He squeezed her lightly, a silent thank you, and she rewarded him with a squeeze of her own.

His left arm tingled, numbness spread out, and then something started to tug at him. Booth felt and didn't feel it likewise, and, taking a deep breath, he let his gaze travel up Brennan's arm. Her pale, bare arm. To distract himself, he started to count the faint freckles up to where the skin disappeared underneath some kind of blouse. Brown. Then there was hair. Another kind of brown. Soft curls resting on her shoulders. Half an ear. A long earring thingy. One breath later, he had reached her eyes... and suddenly the whole day didn't seem so bad anymore.

"Hey," he whispered, and she gave him a small smile.

"Am I drugged?"

"Only a few inches of you."

"Hmm... I didn't even get the donut."

"What?"

"I've been shot at a donut house, but I didn't even get the donut."

"We'll stop and buy you one on our way home."

"Hmm... Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"I might have lost my appetite for donuts. Can we have pizza again?"

"There are leftovers from yesterday."

"Oh yeah... yesterday's been a good day. Are you sure that I'm not drugged?"

A furrow appeared between her eyes, and the hand that wasn't holding his darted out to check the temperature of his forehead. Unnoticed by them, the doctor smiled. They were cute, those two, really cute.

"Temperature is normal."

Just to be sure, she let her palm slide from his brow to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, and, without breaking eye contact, Booth leaned into her touch, rubbing his five o'clock shadow against her smooth skin.

The sound of metal against metal interrupted their intimate moment, and Brennan's eyes flew to the bloody bullet in the pan.

"Everything okay?" she asked, and the doctor nodded.

"Like I said, just a flesh wound. A few stitches, a bandage and your... Mr. Booth is free to go. Just take it slowly for a few days."

"This isn't my first bullet wound," Booth interrupted, and, for a moment, he felt her grip on his hand tightening, but when he sought her gaze, she had herself under control again.

"Maybe you could try and let it be your last."

"Hey, one of my bullets holes is from you, Bones."

Her eyes clouded in anguish, and he cursed inwardly.

"Not _that __one_. You might have forgotten it, but you've literally shot me."

"It only happened once by accident," she hurried to defend herself, but part of her was still raw from the onslaught of different memories. The hole that had been in his chest, that had somehow been in hers as well...

"Maybe we should buy a nightclub or something like that," he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, and her lips curved up in a fragile smile.

"That's a dangerous profession as well."

"Well... you are a famous bestselling author. I could be your bodyguard."

"Because that is a really safe job?"

"You are complicated Bones."

"You know what? Maybe we should drug you after all."

"Funny. Very funny. I've been shot, woman, show some compassion."

"I am holding your hand," she stated dryly.

His gaze fell to their intertwined fingers.

"You are," he uttered in wonder, marveling once more at the sight of her smaller hand in his one.

-BONES-

Under the influence of painkillers, the rest of the evening went by in a blur. The ride to her apartment. A quick and careful shower – "Leave the door ajar, Booth, so I can hear if you fall." – leftover pizza, dozing on the couch while the sound of her fingers dancing over her laptop keyboard lulled him into a drowsy state of comfort. The numbness in his left arm gave way to an itching sensation – "It's healing, Booth." – and he took some more painkillers. He was out as a light the second his head hit the pillows, and this time she could hear his soft snoring from her position in the hallway.

Gaining herself some moments to listen to his breaths, Brennan let go of a deep sigh, telling herself once more that he was fine. Nothing was lost except for his suit – such a shame, she had truly liked this one – but when she was lying in her own bed fifteen minutes later, sleep refused to come.

She hadn't even hugged him. Sure, she had caressed his cheek, held his hand, but she hadn't given him a proper hug. Closing her hand, she tried to recall the sensation of his warm fingers between her own, but it wasn't enough. She wanted his arms around her, his heavy warmth next to her. Gnawing her lip, she was arguing with the darkness around her. Could she? Should she?

On the other end of the wall, everything was soft. Booth was riding a wave of softness, his Vicodin-dazed brain providing him with fluffy dreams. Nothing hurt, everything was just... soft. Suddenly, there was a strange kind of movement pulling him out of sleepiness and into the real world. He wasn't alone. A very familiar scent surrounded him, and, outstretching his good arm, he offered her a place on his shoulder. She slipped into his embrace without hesitation, and her arms came around his back, finally hugging him.

"Bones..."

"Shh. Just for a moment."

"Stay," he murmured, pulling her close with one arm, his lips finding her head, losing a tender kiss in her hair. "Soft..."

She sighed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his unique scent. He was humming sleepily, brushing her hair once more with his lips.

"Just a scratch, don't worry..."

"Shh, I know."

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

"So soft..."

She was smiling into his shoulder, listening how his breath pattern got deep and even once again. He was solid but pliant in her arms, his rough cheek tickling her ear, and through the thin material of his shirt, she could feel his warmth. And, finally, she was at peace.

"Goodnight, Booth," she murmured, but nothing than a soft snore was her answer.

Soothing and peaceful like she had remembered.

-BONES-

Booth awoke to a dull throbbing in his upper arm. His head felt strange, and he blinked against the daylight. Something had happened. Something about donuts. Oh yeah... the shooting. Bones in the hospital. Bones... in his bed. Shifting his head, he found nothing but an empty pillow next to him. She had been there. Where was she?

A knock on the door cut into his musings, and he watched in puzzlement as she entered the room, two mugs in her hands, just like the day before.

"Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Are you in pain? Water and painkillers are on the bed stand next to you."

Nodding his gratitude, he took in her disheveled hair, her bare feet.

"How did you sleep?"

"Soft," he whispered, and he was looking at her in a way that caused her stomach to do a somersault. Anatomically impossible, but still...

Between heart and brain, him and her, there were so many things that could have been said, but she just handed him his mug and took a seat next to him on the bed. A bed that still smelled like her.

Sipping the strong brew, they exchanged glances and smiles, but neither of them mentioned the previous night.

Talking had never done them any good. They'd talked, and then the hard stuff had happened. Or they had talked afterwards. For once, however, not talking about things seemed to work.

"Thanks, Bones."

"You're welcome."

"If only we had donuts..."

To be continued...


	4. The Happiness in Hugs and Socks

IX. The Happiness in Hugs and Socks

Around noon, Booth got a call from his landlord: The snakes had been caught. He should be relieved to be able to go back to his own apartment. He should be glad not to burden his partner anymore. He shouldn't feel that strange hunch of loss at the thought of moving out of her guestroom.

He shared the good news later that afternoon, but Brennan didn't manage to hide that brief flicker of surprise. Had she thought that he would stay as long as he was handicapped?

You have to give the man credits... after all, his partner was this incredibly smart and brilliant scientist. You can hardly blame him for not guessing the true reason for her surprise... because for once Temperance Brennan hadn't thought at all. Honestly, she had forgotten – at least for the fraction of a moment – that there was an actual reason behind him staying at her apartment.

And later that day, the past two evenings it had been "pizza time", he was standing in her living-room with his small bag, ready to say goodbye.

There was no reason for him to stay except that he wanted to.

There was no reason for her to hold him back except that she didn't want to let him go.

"So..." She tilted her head.

"So?" He played with his keys.

"They are positive they got each and every snake?"

"They counted to ten."

"Right, there had been ten of them."

"My neighbor is no druggie or something like that. If he says ten..."

Another pause.

"They were pretty fast in catching them."

"Yeah... I thought they'd take longer."

"I know, right? They're so quick and slippery..."

"Thanks for letting me stay, Bones. That was really nice."

"No problem. You're my friend."

"Friend... yeah."

He leaned towards her but stopped himself before it had been a real move. She lifted her hand but never touched him. They were two people saying goodbye to each other on a warm summer night. Neither of them was in danger. They weren't saying goodbye for good. Nobody was leaving town. Was it appropriate to hug? What else could they do?

"Let me check your wound one more time," she finally said, and he obeyed almost enthusiastically.

"Sure!"

Letting go of his bag and rolling up his sleeve happened in the blink of an eye, and then her delicate fingers where whispering over his skin, checking bandage, stitches and the healing flesh underneath. She was standing so close that he could smell her, and, leaning in one careful inch, Booth inhaled deeply, wishing that one could bottle up scent.

"Looks good," she murmured, and maybe her hand was lingering a tad longer than necessary on his warm skin.

Tilting her head, she met his eyes, and his grin triggered her own.

"This is ridiculous," he finally said while rolling his eyes, and outstretching his good arm, he pulled her into a hug.

"I wasn't sure if hugging was appropriate in a situation when neither of us is sad, hurt or in danger."

His shoulder muffled her serious voice, and he groaned.

"We are pathetic. New rule: happy hugs."

"Happy hugs?"

"Yup."

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I like that."

Tilting his head, he rubbed his stubble against the silkiness of her hair, one more moment of sweet contact, before the appropriate duration for happy hugs seemed to be stretched and gone.

"See you on Monday?"

"Yes, Monday."

She did not sleep in her guestroom that night, it would have been too pathetic. However, she had considered it.

-BONES-

Saturday morning found Seeley Booth in his snake-free apartment. Opening his eyes to bright sunshine, he lolled in bed, waiting for a few minutes before realizing what he was waiting for, but since he was back in his own bed, no Bones would bring him coffee this morning. Through half-closed eyelids he tried to imagine her standing in his door frame. Bare feet, unruly hair. His morning Bones. Except for... there was no "his" and she wasn't there. He almost laughed at his own mushiness, wondering what she was doing this morning. It was Saturday. What was she doing on a sunny Saturday morning?

Brennan was writing. A cup of coffee was standing next to her on the table, and while outside the day unfolded, inside of her a story blossomed. Would it be too much to make Andy homeless because of poisonous snakes? Would Kathy offer him a place to sleep? Would Booth ever stop teasing if she wrote that? Probably not. Hitting the delete button, Brennan settled on uncomplicated and hot sex against a wall. Her characters could do that, could have string-less sex without drowning in emotions. However... Kathy and Andy didn't have happy hugs.

Taking a sip of coffee, Brennan decided that she preferred happy hugs to string-less intercourse. When had that changed?

The first time she had come undone beneath her partner? Or even earlier? Or... maybe just yesterday? Would their night have been so intense if it hadn't been for the emotions unleashed by Vincent's killing and her grief? Would sex with Booth always make her feel that much?

Gnawing her lip, Brennan pondered the questions. As a scientist, there was only one way to get answers: conduct an experiment, test a theory. As a scientist, she should try happy sex with Booth in order to gain a satisfying result.

The idea made her chuckle, and she almost spilled her coffee. _Satisfying_ result. She imagined the expression on his face upon proposing happy intercourse in order to get some answers, and it made her laugh even harder.

As a woman, she realized that acting as a scientist could be quite dumb at times...

Deciding that she was not in the right mood for writing anymore, Brennan closed her laptop. What now? The heat wave wasn't over, yet, thus outdoor activities not an option. Taking her mug with her, she strolled around in her apartment, looking for something to do. The guestroom door was only half-closed, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Brennan gave it a soft kick with her bare foot. It refused to fall open, though, and she kicked a little bit harder. Now it wasn't coincidence anymore but purpose.

The first thing she noticed was that he had made the bed. From what she knew that was quite unlike him, and she smiled into her mug. Apart from the used sheets, there was no trace of him left in this room, and Brennan couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed. With a sigh, she put her mug on the shelf next to her. She should really change these sheets.

She withstood the impulse to bury her nose in the pillow he had used, but upon tugging at the covers, something colorful fell to the floor. Something that wasn't hers. And she started to grin, as an idea formed in her mind.

-BONES-

Seeley Booth was officially bored. It wasn't his Parker weekend, with a bullet hole in his upper arm his physical options were limited, the cartoons on TV were reruns. He had spent the better part of the afternoon browsing silly YouTube videos, glancing longingly at his cell every once in a while. Where are those bodies when you need them to kill a boring Saturday? _Kill_... hehe.

Debating whether it was a wise idea or not while still on painkillers, Booth opened his fridge and ogled the beer bottles standing there. Cool and tempting... Brennan had had his favorite brand in her fridge, neatly stocked away between juice (orange) and salsa (red). He loved the fact that she organized her fridge content by colors. He loved the fact that she had bought, let alone known, his beverage of choice.

He missed her. Left aside the fact that he was bored and she was entertaining, he just missed her.

Last night, while lying in his bed and waiting for sleep, her words about hugs had come back to him, and he had recalled their years of friendship. They had had so much fun together, but she had been right, and the realization had saddened him. Except for that very first time... the moments he had held her in his arms had been accompanied by hurt of grief.

The death of a dog... or a mother. A trial. Murderers, nightmares, tears, blood, farewells. He could come up with one blackmailed kiss and two or three welcome-back-hugs, but since the latter had just been at the other end of goodbyes, they did hardly count.

Even their first and only time of making love had been born out of sadness.

Somehow, this didn't seem fair, didn't seem right because despite her awkwardness, she was quite amusing, and despite the ghosts haunting him, he could be a very funny guy. They deserved to have more happy moments.

Deciding to send her some very colorful flowers, he fetched his phone. What would she like? Daffodils were too pale, and he wasn't sure if she still liked daisies after having met Miss Wick... A knock on the door interrupted his musings, and scratching his head, Boot set himself in motion to open the door; open the door to his partner.

"Hi!"

His eyes widened in surprise, but Brennan was almost sure that it was a joyous kind of surprise. Almost.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"No, not at all. In fact, I was just about to send you some flowers and I was wondering... do you still like daisies?"

Her nose wrinkled.

"I might have changed my mind about them. Why would you send me flowers?"

He shrugged.

"Just because. Happiness, you know. Bones... not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you here?"

Outstretching her arm, she offered him a big box.

"Pizza. Three's a charm, right?"

Accepting the pizza box, he chuckled.

"Did you look that one up?"

She blushed.

"Maybe... Plus, I found these in the guestroom."

Rummaging around in her bag, she presented him a pair of checkered socks in bright colors.

"They're freshly laundered, and I thought you might need them."

Biting his lip, he thought that it was best not to inform her that those socks had been a "buy one get one free" deal.

"Hey, my favorite pair! Thanks!"

A bright smile lit up her face.

"You're welcome."

"I have an idea... but first, do you want some beer?"

"Sure."

"Do you think it would be irresponsible for me to-"

"Yes," she cut him off, and he sighed.

"I've thought so."

Grabbing one water and two beer bottles on his way, Booth nudged her out of his apartment.

"Where are we going?"

"The roof."

"The roof? Why?"

"It's nice up there. Come on, humor me."

It was indeed nice "up there". The heat of the day had given way to a mild sunny evening, the last rays of daylight touching the city with their golden shimmer.

"Wow," she exclaimed, and he laughed out.

"You never 'wow'."

"I do 'wow' sometimes. This truly is beautiful. Why have we never been here before?"

Turning his head, he took her all in. Loose black pants, a pale top, ponytail and ballerinas. She looked like a summer evening and she deserved a summer evening.

"I don't know, Bones. Seems as if we've missed a lot of beautiful things over the years."

Tilting her head, she registered the sudden earnestness in his voice.

"Like happy hugs?"

"Yes."

"Your socks look very happy."

"My socks?"

She nodded, and he furrowed his brow, not knowing what to do with the compliment.

"Well... thanks I guess. Come on, let's eat."

"Here?"

"Here."

She took a seat next to him on the rooftop, their backs leaned against some kind of low wall, and munching their pizza, both of them enjoyed the sunset. Every once in a while, his gaze flickered longingly to her beer bottle; every now and then, their hands brushed each other in the pizza box.

"Your pizza has been better," he finally stated, and she wiggled her head.

"This one is less burned."

"We should do that more often."

"We share several meals a week, but... I know what you mean."

"I have a confession to make."

Next to him, she sucked in a breath, and the grip on her beer bottle tightened.

"Yes...?"

"I'm so glad you're here. I've been totally bored."

"That's the big confession?"

Tilting his head, he grabbed one more slice of pizza.

"Yup."

She laughed out.

"If I hadn't found your socks, I would have come up with another excuse."

"Really? You wanted to see me?"

"You've grown on me," she nodded, her ponytail bobbing in the last rays of golden light. "Like a fungus, only better."

"Like a fungus?"

Careful baby blues met his stern eyes, but she couldn't quite hide the playfulness in hers.

"I said, 'Only better.'"

"I'm better than a fungus. Jeez, Bones, you know how to make compliments."

Now she was giggling, and the sound went straight under his skin.

"How would you do it?"

"What? Compliment you?"

She nodded while taking another swig, and his fingers played with the water bottle.

"Hmm... Your laughter is as warm as the sunrays on my skin, and when I look at you, I feel like summer. You are," he shrugged, " the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Slowly, very slowly she put down her bottle, like spellbound by his dark gaze.

"Booth," she whispered, blinking once, twice, but then he started to laugh, a rumbling kind of belly deep laughter, and she slapped him unceremoniously before joining in.

"Gotcha!"

"That was mean."

-BONES-

The sun set, and she opened another bottle of beer. They talked, they laughed, and when she began to shiver, he put his good arm around her shoulder. It was a summer evening like it should be, and when she hugged him goodbye later, much later that night, he leaned in to whisper softly into her ear.

His voice was still vibrating in her head when she opened the door to her own apartment twenty minutes later.

"I've meant every word..."

To be continued...


	5. The Brick in the Wall

X. The Brick in the Wall

Thick rainfalls washed away the unbearable heat while a wound was healing, literally speaking. The city provided its inhabitants with a fresh and clean autumn summer, and the old circle of killing and catching murderers continued.

There had been more pizza nights – at his or her place – and every once in a while she received a colorful bunch of flowers. He had tried lilies, but she had only lectured him about the morbidity of them. Roses would have been a cliché, it wasn't the right season for tulips, but then he discovered cornflowers, and nothing but a shy "thank you" was his answer. He had found his flowers.

Booth and Brennan were... for the lack of a better word, comfortable around each other. Sure, there were moments when she found his gaze on her and it was more than just friendly; moments when an innocent touch ignited a sudden spark... but, most of all, they had fun. They were still partners in crime, doing their job as outstanding as always, but after the roller coaster of the last years, they had somehow found back to their earlier easy kind of friendship... and had deepened it.

However, there was more because it was impossible for him to forget the warmth of her body around him. The elegant way her longs legs had cradled him, the sensation of her fingernails whispering over his back – like fluttering wings. On the other side, he wasn't the only one not able (and unwilling) to forget, and her dreams about him were so vivid that she woke up some mornings, almost positive that she could still taste his kisses.

Maybe a few more evenings of boredom would have solved the problem once and for all, but boredom was rarely found this late summer, and then he was even called away to LA to assist on a case... without her.

"Look, Bones, it's just a one day thing. No need for you to abandon the lab. I'll just hop off in LA, and before you've noticed that I'm gone, I'll be back."

Guess what? She had noticed. One day had turned into three so far, and the third Booth-less evening in a row found her in a grumpy mood.

The ringing sound of her cell tore her out of her musings, and she let go of a sigh, as she accepted the call.

"Brennan."

"Hey, Bones."

"Booth!"

Loud music was playing in the background, and she frowned.

"Is there a party?"

"Uh, look... there was a little twist in this case."

Oblivious to him, her eyebrows arched up.

"A twist?"

"Yeah. Ahem, I'm undercover."

"What?"

"Long story. Let's just say that I fit a profile."

"Which profile? Send it to me."

"Ahem... I'll tell you everything tomorrow. I should be back in a few days. Sorry."

"What is this case about? What's your cover?"

"Uh, I'm a... dancer."

She couldn't suppress a laughter.

"A dancer? I find that hard to believe."

In the background, roaring applause could be heard, followed by one sonorous voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the famous Lucy Leather...?"

"Look, Bones, I have to go."

"Lucy Leather? Booth, what kind of dancing is this?"

"Ahem, I'll call you tomorrow. Be safe, Bones."

Before she could say anything else, the line was interrupted, and she stared at her phone with a puzzled expression on her face.

-BONES-

Meanwhile in another part of the country...

"I don't like that."

"Come on, Agent Booth, you don't have to strip down completely."

"I just lied to my partner."

"Not telling the whole story doesn't qualify as 'lying'. Agent Booth, you and Miss Vanilla are the perfect couple. You're just like his other victims."

"Erotic dancing," he spat out with an incredulous glare towards the agent in front of him.

"Come on, Booth, just wiggle your hips and rub yourself against her. Shouldn't be that hard."

"You have no idea..."

-BONES-

It could have ended with an unspectacular outcome, but sometimes fate seems to have an evil kind of humor, and the next day that kind of fate presented itself in the form of Dr. Sweets walking into the Jeffersonian.

"Dr. Brennan!"

"Good morning Sweets, how can I help you? Booth is out of town."

"Yeah, I know," the young psychologist nodded, "and in fact, I'm here to help you. Given the, ahem, unorthodox nature of your relationship, I'd thought that Agent Booth's current case might bother you."

Her gaze zoomed in on him with honest puzzlement.

"Why should it?"

"Oh, well, you know, since he's undercover in a strip club..."

"He's what?"

Realizing his mistake, Sweets hurried to backpedal.

"Crap. He hasn't told you... Look, Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Don't you dare. Tell me everything."

"Maybe you should just call-"

"Now!"

His shoulders slumped down.

"Erotic dancers have been abducted and murdered. Three couples so far. Booth fits the male victims' profile."

"They've worked with partners?"

"Uh-uh."

"He's undercover with a female stripper?"

"Miss Vanilla fits the female vics' profile."

"_Miss Vanilla_?"

"Oh God, I have to go Dr. Bones, ahem, Brennan. Sorry. Look, I haven't told you anything."

He rushed out of the room, leaving her behind with the silence of bones and a very unfamiliar but sharp feeling inside of her.

-BONES-

Temperance Brennan had always found sentences like "I had no choice" ridiculous. In her understanding, the word "choice" implied "to choose", thus, more than one option was a necessity. However, upon boarding the national flight to LA later that afternoon, she was pretty sure that she had no choice, and while making herself comfortable in her first class seat, she tried to put the information she had in order.

First... undercover cases were part of his job. It had never bothered her before, but then again, in the past she had always been undercover with him.

Second... it had been quite amusing to watch her partner squirm underneath some lady called Strawberry Lust. That one hadn't bothered her as well.

Third... and she had just made peace with the realization, this time it did bother her. Everything about it.

Fourth... and this one she wasn't proud of... Brennan wanted to see it.

-BONES-

The club was illuminated by a dusky red light, a light that felt like bedrooms, a thousand sins and more. The woman who slipped in shortly after eight o'clock that night fit the place, but still, there was something about her that forced the men around to risk a second glance, something that was just a hunch too... classy. She wore a deep red dress, a dress that matched her lipstick and her impossibly high stilettos.

The men watched her ordering some golden spirit on the rocks, watched how she took a seat next to the stage... alone. More than one of them tried an approach, but she dismissed them all with a shake of her head.

She wasn't Temperance Brennan tonight, she was... someone else. And she wasn't here to get hit on by random strangers, she wanted to see her partner.

The man she was waiting for entered the stage about half an hour later, and suddenly she found it very difficult to breathe. He wasn't alone, but despite her displayed sexuality, the blonde woman dancing with him was... nobody. Licking her lips, Brennan leaned forward in her chair, her eyes fixed on her partner.

His skin was shimmering soft and satiny in the spotlight, his scars covered by some kind of make-up, almost invisible for someone who didn't know him. Brennan however... she did know him by heart, but the man on the stage moved with smoothness she had never seen before. His palms slid over the other woman's body, as they swayed, dancing to the music, and the sharp feeling inside of her came back, almost overwhelming, but then the blonde woman curled herself around him, her fingernails traveling down his back and... there was a slip. It was brief, barely noticeable, but she who knew him registered the hunch of awkwardness in his handsome features. Relief flooded Brennan as she realized that Booth was, after all, just playing a role, not enjoying this.

He hadn't worn a shirt to begin with, and, shortly after, his pants were on the floor as well, leaving him in a pair of golden briefs. Boxers, he preferred boxers, she knew that, and something inside of her triumphed silently that she possessed that piece of information.

Miss Vanilla's bra and panties were a golden match to the last piece of clothing he was wearing, and then a gasp left Brennan's lips, as, in one swift move, the other woman's bra was replaced by his strong hands. His hands on another pair of breasts. The music was beating almost as wildly as Brennan's heart, and she didn't want to watch the two people on the stage anymore but was unable to tear her gaze away nonetheless.

And then... he saw her. As if pulled by a strange force, his eyes found hers in the dim-lit room, darkening in something that was partly shock and partly something else entirely. His movements stopped, but only for the fraction of a moment, then he had found back to his dance of sensuality and sexuality.

His hands roaming over foreign breasts, teasing nipples that were so much darker than hers, pressing hips to his that weren't hers at all. His eyes however... his eyes never let go of her, not for a second, and despite the weirdness of the situation, Brennan registered a hot kind of ache between her legs. How could she be turned on by this? It was an undercover operation, he was rubbing and fondling another woman, a striptease dancer, and now his lips and tongue were whispering over the other one's neck.

Wetness was flowing to her core, as Brennan remembered his mouth on her own skin. "I love your neck," he had murmured huskily, and her eyes had glassed over at the pleasure his lips had evoked.

Blinking once, twice, Brennan banished the memories and, crossing her legs, she cried to soothe the vibrating sensation between them. It was futile, though, and she was powerless, as she witnessed how Miss Vanilla pressed her palm to his barely covered crotch, all the while wiggling her perfect little ass in his hands.

It was too much, just too much, and the erotic mixture of memories and jealousy was so intense that Brennan wished she hadn't come here at all. But... she hadn't had a choice.

Suddenly, the music was over, replaced by whistles and applause, and she closed her eyes in relief.

-BONES-

She was here! Why was she here? Squeezing his eyes shut, Booth tried to regain some control over his galloping heart. Jumping in some pair of jeans and grabbing a shirt happened in the blink of an eye, and then he was back in the room, his eyes browsing the audience. Where was she?

He finally found her in the dark alley behind the club, a tall woman in a flimsy red dress, and he was about to call her name, when she turned to him, her pale blue eyes full of something he had never seen in them.

For the fleetingness of a moment, neither of them could move, but then he took a step in her direction, or maybe she took one... however, one heartbeat later she was pressed against the rough brick wall, her long legs wrapped around his hips. He could feel her heat just like she could feel his hardness... Was it because of her or because of that dance he had just shared?

"You're aroused," she stated on a whisper, and he pressed himself tighter between her thighs.

"You're here," he replied, but Brennan didn't know if his statement qualified as an answer to her unspoken question. "Why are you here?"

His breath was hot and fast, caressing her ear, and she sucked in a shuddered breath.

"I had to see it..."

Lowering his head, he nipped the tender skin right underneath her earlobe, and she couldn't suppress a soft moan. That was it.

His lips crushed down on hers, not even kissing but devouring her, and she rubbed herself desperately against his oh so male body. The friction was almost painfully, his frame pinning her against the wall the only thing holding her. From experience, Brennan knew him to be soft and gentle, but this man kissing her right now was nothing but demanding, taking what was in some unspoken way his. Supporting her with one arm, he tugged at her dress with an impatient hand, exposing her aching breasts to the night air, and despite the mild temperature, her nipples tautened under his burning gaze.

Lowering his head, he sucked and licked her creamy and tender skin, and a muffled cry left her lips.

"Is this because of me?" she finally managed to ask, and her desire-clouded brain failed to see how much the simple question revealed.

"It's always because of you," he answered between kisses, and then the hand that wasn't holding her had somehow found its way between her legs.

She was wet, oh so impossibly, perfectly wet, and his groan met hers, as he buried one long finger inside of her, catching her completely and utterly off guard. Something in her eyes exploded, and in slow, hot spasms, her body came apart in his arms, pressed to that damn wall.

"Oh," she panted, and within this one syllable which wasn't even a real word lay surprise, surrender and so much more.

"Whoa, did you just...?"

Her head fell to his shoulder, teeth sinking into the skin of his neck, and underneath something that had a faint resemblance to coconut oil, she found his taste. The one she hadn't been able to forget.

"Sorry..."

"Sorry? Are you crazy? God, do you have any idea how sexy you are?"

His mouth slanted down on hers anew, gentler than before, taking its time to nibble and suck her soft bottom lip. His finger was still buried inside of her, caressing her while little aftershocks pulsated through her body. In his whole life, he had never been so hard; he had never craved a woman like he craved her.

Suddenly, a beam of light cut into their privacy, followed by a sharp whisper.

"Booth?"

"Shit."

With a soft curse, Booth let go of her, making sure that she could stand on her own legs before turning around in the semi-darkness.

"Here."

"Man, we're looking for you, and you're here with some chick."

"Hey, she's not..."

Her hand on his arm stopped him, and he swallowed.

"I'm coming, give me a second."

"This ain't meant to be fun, you should know that. One second."

The door closed again, and Booth squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his forehead against hers while forcing the massive hard-on in his pants to subside.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but she shook her head, auburn curls brushing his cheeks.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. This is work, I shouldn't have..."

"Please, can I talk to you later?"

"My flight goes back in a few hours."

His fingers found hers between their bodies, curling around them.

"Call me, then."

"Booth..."

"Bones, please... Promise me that this hasn't done any harm."

_This_... She inhaled deeply.

"We didn't even-"

"No, don't do this. I can still smell you."

The last part was a whisper, and his voice caressed her like something dark but velvety.

"I... I'll call."

"Promise."

"I promise. Be safe, Booth."

"Always."

He let go of her hand, but before he was gone, he pulled her into his arms one more time, and even though he didn't kiss her, his lips whispered over her hair in a gesture that was so much more intimate than a kiss... a gesture that was them.

-BONES-

The rest of the night went by in a blur. A cab ride to the airport, almost feverish eyes staring back at her in the ladies' room. Her red lipstick was smeared, her hair seriously mussed, and Brennan was ridiculously glad that changing clothes and fixing her make-up gave her something to do... something that didn't involve thinking. Her panties were soaked, though, and since she hadn't brought spare ones, they were rubbing against her sensitive center as an unforgiving reminder of what had happened. Only... what had happened?

This encounter in the alley had been so very unlike the one night they had shared back in spring, but it had been another facet, another glimpse of what was and could be sex with Booth.

One touch, one simple but self-assured touch... _his_ touch, and she had come for him, because of him. No other man before had ever been able to do that to her.

Part of her couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of doubt. Should she be ashamed? Had it been a stupid mistake? The other part, however, felt wickedly good. All in all, it was a very confusing mixture.

Brennan was used to overnight flights and she could sleep almost everywhere, but this time, rest refused to come. It was very late – or early; the first sunlight was already shining in – when she unlocked her apartment door back in DC, but despite her exhaustion, she remembered her promise and, on her way to bed, Brennan fetched her cell, hitting speed dial. He answered on the second ring.

"Bones."

"I'm back."

"I figured. How was your flight."

"Good. Uneventful."

"We got him."

Him...

"Him?"

"Our suspect."

"Oh, right. No more dancing, then?"

"Damn right, no more dancing. I plan to do my fair share of paperwork and catch a flight later tomorrow... uh, today."

"That's good."

"Maybe... I could see you?"

Her eyes fell to the blue cornflowers standing on her bedside table, tickled by the first light of the new day.

"I'd like that."

"How do you feel?"

"Quite tired."

"No, I mean, how are you _feeling_?"

"Oh... Warm, somehow. Vibrating."

He was humming at the other end of line.

"I cannot forget the feeling of your legs around me," tumbled out of his mouth, and she inhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry. I'm aware that you didn't find release tonight."

"Yeah, no, I mean... I haven't been able to forget ever since spring."

Ever since spring...

"I... I know."

"Do you remember?"

His heaviness on top of her. The perfect rightness of their rhythm.

"Everything."

"I... I don't want to forget."

"Come home, Booth."

"Tomorrow, Baby."

It was a slip, but lolling in her bed, his voice so far away but so close, she let him have this one.

"You know... I can still smell you as well," she finally confessed, registering his sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line.

"Don't say things like that while being so damn far away," he uttered between pressed teeth, and she laughed lightly.

"Goodnight Booth. Or better said: good morning."

"Yeah... sleep tight."

She dreamed about him that night. They were sitting on a porch, and in front of them twelve blonde ponies were dancing on the grass. It was so strange and funny that she had to smile in sleep.

He didn't sleep at all.

To be continued...


	6. The Welcome in the Arrival

XI. The Welcome in the Arrival

Three hours of sleep later, Brennan called the Jeffersonian to inform Cam that she wouldn't come to work this day. Other people would have called in sick, but Brennan didn't see the point in lying. She wasn't sick, why should she pretend being so to take the day off?

After having accomplished that task, she pulled the blanket over her head and dozed off one more time. Somewhere between wake and sleep, she could feel his hands on her skin, could feel his strength surrounding her.

She saw a pig, a smurf, cornflowers and a Christmas tree. She saw his smile, and even in half-sleep, it triggered her own.

Almost two years ago, she had told him that she was a scientist, unable to change. What he hadn't understood was that she had only wanted to protect him. What she hadn't understood was that he hadn't wanted to be protected from her. Lingering in bed this sunny late summer morning, Brennan was still convinced that he could do better. That he could find someone easier, a people person just like himself, someone who could promise infinite love and devotion without as much as a second of hesitation. She wasn't that woman; had never been, would never be. However... she accepted that somehow he seemed to want her nonetheless. Despite everything. And maybe even _because_ of it.

It was strange, still scary somehow, but... not too scary anymore. Hurting him and in doing so losing him had always been her biggest fear. Now she had already lost him, but somehow it hadn't killed this wonderful thing between them, and she had gotten him back. Had gotten another chance.

"Don't think it to death."

She could almost hear his voice in her mind, and maybe this was one of the situations when she should put her brain in neutral and her heart in overdrive. Her metaphorical heart. What did it say?

Lying very still, Brennan tried to listen deep inside of her, but after some futile minutes no epiphany had happened, and she frowned at the ridiculousness. Maybe waiting for some kind of big bang was a mistake, maybe she should just take it moment after moment.

Her thoughts wandered back to that dusky club, the performance she had witnessed, and her stomach clenched unexpectedly. Jealousy, she had to admit, combined with an uncharacteristic streak of possessiveness. His hands on another woman's breasts... the picture had been wrong. She didn't want that. She wanted his touch to be exclusively hers.

Accepting the realization with a shrug, she rolled onto her stomach, one foot dangling out of bed.

She had liked sharing her morning coffee with him, and seeing him first thing after waking up, his hair standing in every direction – plus letting _him_ see _her_ – had filled her with a warm kind of intimacy. Temperance Brennan didn't do mornings. Granted, a few rare times a sexual encounter had led to a sleepover, but she had never been particularly fond of the morning-coffee-part.

Having sex with someone was so much easier than waking up next to him, lying in his arms afterwards. With Booth, she wanted to have sex, but she longed for the rest as well.

Next to her bed, her cell vibrated, and she grabbed it with one hand. A text from Booth.

"Arrival time 10 pm. Too late to come to you?"

A smile spread out on her face.

"I'll wait up."

"Cool, see you."

She could cook for him. Airplane food never satisfied him. Or she could... Her metaphorical heart provided her with another idea, and she pondered her options. Yes, she could do that.

-BONES-

Seeley Booth didn't like planes. There was never enough space for his legs, and the food tasted like rubber. On top of that, the sleepless night took a toll on him, resulting in an anxious mood. Despite their phone talk in the wee hours of morning, he was still worried that the thing in the alley might turn into a problem for Brennan.

They'd had grown so close in the past weeks, and he didn't want to lose that again, never ever. Not because of one moment of irrational hotness... no matter _how_ hot it had been. Rubbing his stubbly face with one palm, he felt a tingling sensation in his nether regions at the thought of her last night. Red lips parted, eyes glistening with arousal, full breasts exposed to his gaze.

"Not helping, Seel," he chastised himself inwardly while waiting for his luggage to arrive.

Another image replaced the wicked one. Brennan with two mugs in her hands, standing on bare legs in his door frame, and he sighed, as the ache in his crotch picked up another notch. No matter if she was clad in the sinfullest red dress ever seen, her comfortable robe or his old gray sweater, to him she was always sexy. Sexy, cute, beautiful, adorable.

Could he go back to being just friends with her if he had to? Spotting his bag, Booth bent down to pluck it from the baggage conveyor belt. Yes, he had been there, he could go there again. Did he want that? No. Turning towards the exit sign, Booth decided that he wouldn't ask her. No questions to say no to seemed to be a smart move. More pizza nights, more flowers, more hugs. And if the opportunity would present itself, he could kiss her. Just... no hard decisions. Maybe he could simply slip into... _more_ with her without forcing her to verbalize it. And maybe, just maybe she would bring him coffee one day, realizing that she liked the picture of him in her home. In her bed.

Congratulating himself on his brilliant plan, Booth stepped into the arrival area, estimating the easiest way through the sea of people. The faster he got out here, the faster he'd be at her place.

"Booth."

Stopping mid-track, he turned around, and his lips parted in surprise.

"Bones! Hey!"

"Hey."

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and he had been so unprepared to find her here that her beauty took him utterly off guard.

"Wow, it's good to see you," he mumbled candidly, and a smile lit up her whole face.

Then she was in his arms, warm and soft around him, and, lowering his neck, he inhaled her familiar and sweet scent.

"Welcome home," she murmured against his ear, and he squeezed her gently.

Shifting her head, she grazed his rough cheek with her lips, and a shiver run down his spine at the unexpected caress.

"You smell better than last night," she finally said, taking him by surprise the second time in five minutes.

"Last night..."

"Coconut oil," she clarified.

"Oh, yeah. They gave it to me to make my skin look shiny."

"I've noticed."

"You have..."

"Also, I've noticed that the wound in your arm has healed quite nicely."

"You have..."

Taking one backwards step out of his arms, she tilted her head to seek his eyes.

"Is it a problem to talk about last night? You wanted me to promise-"

He cut her off with a finger on her lips, shaking his head.

"No problem at all. It's just... I'm not very proud of the things I've done."

Something insecure flickered through her eyes, and he rubbed her lower lip with his finger pad.

"On stage," he added. "That hasn't been my favorite role."

She nodded almost a tad too eagerly, betraying her relief.

"I understand. I won't mention it again, but first... I find it fair to inform you that I didn't like seeing you with that other woman. It's not rational, but it felt rather unpleasant."

"Trust me, I didn't like it that much either."

They had turned towards the exit, walking side by side, and he wrapped one arm around her shoulder, tugging her into his side, just because he could.

"I know that it has been work and I have no right to expect exclusiveness since we aren't..."

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"Stop talking."

"Okay. It's just..."

"Yeah?"

Her voice next to him had softened to a whisper.

"I've promised you that last night won't become a problem."

"And you're showing me that it hasn't?"

"Yes. I've dreamed about you."

"What did you dream?"

"There were dancing ponies."

"Okay... Don't tell Sweets."

"Why?"

"No idea what he might read into. Where are we going, by the way?"

"Your car?"

"My car. What about your car?"

"Cab."

"Are we still heading to your place or... do you want me to drop you off?"

"Neither. I thought you'd prefer changing clothes and take a shower at yours."

"Very considerate, Bones."

"Thanks. I'm coming with you," she clarified, and he squeezed her shoulder.

"Great."

"I've cooked for you."

"You... what?"

She padded her shoulder bag.

"Mac and cheese. We just have to reheat it."

"Wow, you pick me up from the airport and you cook for me. Is everything alright? Are you leaving town again? What's the catch?"

He had stopped, and she turned around to face him, honestly puzzled.

"I don't know what that means."

"It feels like sugar-coated bad news."

She shook her head.

"There aren't bad news, and if so, why should I cover them with sugar? That doesn't make any sense."

He relaxed, ridiculously glad that she wasn't even familiar with the concept.

"I just thought you'd be happy," she added with a shrug, and thump, thump, his crazy heart was flying to her.

"I like it. A lot. I like you."

She rewarded him with a playful smirk.

"That's quite convenient. Shall we?"

"We shall."

-BONES-

Riding in the car with her next to him felt like coming home, and he was filling her in about the case, every once in a while casting a glance at her sweet face. He didn't quite understand why she was here, but it felt good, and he was more than willing to accept it.

His apartment was as messy as he'd left it a few days ago, and he hurried to kick some shoes away while letting her in, apologizing for the chaos. She shrugged it off, simply stating that she was used to his messiness, and a few minutes later, he was standing in his own shower, the hot water pearling down his body... taking a deep breath.

He was home, finally at home, the weirdness of the last case not forgotten but over. Bones was in his kitchen, preparing diner she had cooked for _him_, and twenty-four hours ago, he had kissed her. Had done much more than kissing her.

"Dinner is ready!"

"I'm coming," he yelled back, turning off the water while fighting the cocky smile that must be curving up his lips. Whatever this was, he wouldn't question it, would just enjoy it.

The food was delicious, the cheese melting on his tongue, and every now and then, reaching for his beer bottle, his arm brushed hers. They were sitting on his couch, munching their food, feet resting on the couch table rather sloppily.

He had changed into sweatpants and a simple tee; she was wearing jeans and a black shirt – V-neck, he couldn't help but notice – and the picture was so domestic that he wondered if he could somehow talk her into staying. However, he had promised himself not to push her, not to ask the hard questions, and, true to this, he enjoyed her company and their easy conversation. Two more bottles of beer were opened, as the night grew older, and she stayed. Stayed through his first stifled yawn, stayed some more. The combination of sleep deprivation, food and beer had lulled him into a lazy state of comfort, and upon one point, his head fell to her shoulder.

"You're tired."

"Hmm... no..."

"Yes, you are."

"Maybe."

"You should go to bed, then."

"Hmm... I don't want you to leave," he answered honestly, and next to him, her hand brushed his arm.

"I... I don't have to."

So many questions, so many requests whirled through his head upon her simple statement, but he bit his lips and got up, offering her a hand.

"I'll get you a shirt."

Accepting his hand, she rose as well.

"Okay."

He held her hand on their way to his bedroom, and she thanked him with a smile upon accepting the shirt, not the same she had worn during that spring night but one that was long enough to cover her like a nightgown. He let her use the bathroom first, and when he came back into the room shortly after, she was already in bed.

Dark hair on his pillow, the soft curve of her body under his blanket. His bed, his Bones.

Acting as if seeing her in his bed, waiting for him, was an everyday thing, wasn't the sweetest kind of miracle, he slipped under the covers next to her.

"Do you need an extra pillow?"

"No, thanks."

"Are you cold?"

A low chuckle was his answer.

"I'm fine, Booth. But maybe..."

"Yeah?"

"Would you kiss me goodnight?"

"Kiss you..."

His voice trailed off.

"Goodnight," she added.

Lost for words, he sought her mouth with his, meeting her with tenderness in a kiss that was so unlike the ones they had shared last night in the alley. Brushing her lips once, twice, he enjoyed their softness, and then one of her hands cupped his cheek, holding him in place.

"Goodnight, Bones," he murmured, and a low whimper was his answer, as her lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip in.

Her kiss tasted like his toothpaste, and a strong wave of possessiveness rushed through his veins, as his arms tightened around her warm body. Tongues swept over each other, greeting, caressing, giving and taking, and the moment was unhurried and sweet.

His body responded to her surrender in an almost electrifying way, nerve endings tingling with excitement and anticipation, but he had vowed not to rush her and he wouldn't. Forcing himself to slow down, he pulled her lower lip between his teeth, nibbling gently before releasing her. Next to him, her chest was heaving, and, upon leaning his cheek against hers, he could feel the heat of her skin. Immediately, his mind provided him with the fitting image, her face glowing with a rosy flush, and he smiled as the moment mingled with memories.

"Welcome home," she whispered, her fingers trailing patterns over his back, and he sighed contently.

"I'm glad you're here."

She smiled against his chest.

"You've just missed me providing you with morning coffee."

"That too."

Under their blanket, her bare legs entangled with his, skin brushing skin, and he pulled her tighter into his embrace, dropping the whisper of a kiss onto her lips. This was nice, truly nice.

"Sleep tight, Bones," he finally mumbled, his voice drowsy while he couldn't fight against the pull of sleep anymore.

Long after his breath pattern had evened out, she was lying wide awake in his safe embrace, his heartbeat mere inches away, his breath caressing her face. Brennan was surrounded by Booth's scent, his strength, and she realized that she hadn't felt so content and warm in a very long time. Maybe never before. In this night-covered comfort, memories came back, memories of crushed hopes and tears. He had asked for thirty, forty, fifty years, and his request for commitment had scared her. So many things had happened since that night, but lying in his arms right here, right now, she realized that she already was committed to him in a way she had never experienced before. He was so close to her, so important, and never before had she known intimacy like this. Never before had she guessed that it could feel so good, so natural. So fitting.

"I'm strong," she whispered, caressing his sleeping face. "And I'm trying. I won't run away from this, I promise."

He moved in sleep, drawing her even closer against his body, and she accepted it.

He was the one who had been away. But, somehow, she was the one who had found home.

To be continued...


	7. The Light in the Darkness

_*facepalm*, I mixed up my numbers. I do know that V means 5 and that X means 10. I'm too lazy to go back and correct it, though. Sorry for confusing you. I you hadn't noticed, pretend you haven't read this A/N. Also: thanks for all your kind words :)_

VII. The Light in the Darkness

She awoke to something warm pressing against her. It was still dark, and in the disoriented moment right after waking up, Brennan needed a few seconds to figure out where she was, but then she relaxed with a smile. Booth, she was with Booth. Booth who had nuzzled up to her in sleep, his strong body pressed to hers from head to toe. One particularly _strong_ part of his body nestled to the juncture of her thighs.

She was an anthropologist, she knew that it was normal for men to get aroused in sleep, but knowing and feeling it were two entirely different things, and unexpected heat rushed through her body, as she inhaled a shuddered breath.

Wriggling a little bit, she increased the fraction between them, the hem of her shirt riding up, and through the barrier of her panties and his boxers, she could feel his hardness, his heat. Burying her head in his shoulder, she suppressed a moan, and, in subconscious response to her actions, his palm slid down her back until it reached her buttocks, pulling her even tighter against the bulge between his legs. Opening her thighs just a few inches, she welcomed the intimate contact, and his hips thrust involuntarily into her.

Wetness was flowing, fueling the exquisite kind of ache, and Brennan gasped. Her breasts were almost painfully tight, nipples hard underneath the well-worn smoothness of the shirt, and her hand grabbed his hip, desperate not to break the contact.

He groaned in sleep, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh of her ass, and, then his breath pattern changed, and he went rigid.

Booth was awake.

In the gray twilight of the hour, she could only guess his eyes, but there was a moment when she tried to read him, when he tried to grasp the situation. It was brief, however, and then his mouth was on hers, his tongue seeking entrance immediately. Through the rush of dizziness, she met his kiss, no finesse, just need, and his hand started to move anew, slipping into her panties to cup her bare buttocks.

Rubbing herself against him wantonly, she enjoyed his hands on her, reveled in the dominance of his kiss. A feral groan left his chest, as he flipped her onto her back, covering her with his body mere seconds later. Arching her back, she spread her legs, welcoming him on her body.

"Bones," he uttered between kisses, his hands caressing every part of her he could reach without logic, without rhythm.

"Please," she whispered, biting his lip, and he gasped, as pain mixed with pleasure.

Her hands slid under his shirt, roaming over his strong back, _possessing_ him, and she pulled him tighter against her, so tight that he almost crushed her with his weight.

Her panties were useless and wet between her legs, and he managed to slip one hand between their bodies, pushing them away until he had access to the part of her that ached the most for him. A whimper close to a cry left her lips, but he caught it in a demanding kiss, as he pushed two fingers into her without hesitation.

Fluttering muscles, liquid heat, infinite beauty.

"Please," she breathed again, even though she didn't really know what exactly she was pleading for.

Breaking the kiss, he nuzzled her throat with his lips, licking and nibbling her sensitive skin, and her hands on his back slid lower until she had access to the strong muscles of his perfect ass. Pushing his boxers down his hips, she tried to free him from the garment, but then his fingers inside of her hit the perfect spot, and she forgot everything else.

The world was reduced to him inside of her, and she wanted more, only more of him. More contact, more friction, more closeness, more Booth.

"God, you're wet," he groaned, and even though he was simply stating the obvious, his remark added to her arousal, and she nodded wildly.

"For you," she managed to say, and reason went southwards at her answer.

He was pulsating almost painfully, and even though it cost him, Booth let go of her long enough to pull the shirt over her head. His own followed shortly after, and then skin met skin, as his chest touched hers. He could feel the full globes of her breasts pressing against his chest, and, suddenly, he couldn't wait to feel their heaviness again. Licking his lips, he wanted to lower his head, but she beat him to it, and her mouth closed around his dark and flat nipple, licking the taut bud. Shutting his eyes in blissful pleasure, he exhaled an unsteady breath.

"Bones," he whispered, his fingers running through the silky tresses of her hair, and then the tightening between his legs got nearly unbearable, and he pulled her up again, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss.

Teeth clashed, as he stole her breath, and she was torn between need and triumph at his unleashed response. The hand that wasn't cupping her head wandered to her breast, brushing her nipple with one rough fingertip before kneading the tender flesh, and she moaned into his kiss.

Letting go of her anew, he pulled down her panties, and she lifted her hips before assisting him with his boxers. Then everything stilled, and he watched her for one luxurious moment, spread out in front of him, for him. Leaning forward, he touched her lips with his finger, trailing a path down her throat, her belly until he brushed the triangle of short curls.

"So beautiful," he marveled, and she gave his silhouette a weak smile.

"Make love to me."

His heart stopped before it run away, and he bent down to kiss one creamy white breast and then the other.

"Yes."

Lifting her hand, she caressed his thigh, firm flesh and tiny hairs, before gripping his arousal in her palm. His breath hitched, as she squeezed his velvety hardness just like he liked it; just like she knew he liked it.

She could smell him, the heady scent of arousal and Booth, and a few firm strokes later, he fell forward and onto her body, breathing heavily. His teeth sunk into her shoulder, marking her, and some primeval streak of her triumphed at the gesture.

_Yes, I'm yours. But you're mine as well._

His hand moved down her side, cupping the back of her thigh, and then he was parting her, as he slid between her legs. The tip of his erection touched her damp flesh, and she closed her eyes in blissful anticipation, but right before joining them, he stilled one last time.

"You're sure that you want this?"

_Me?_

"Yes, oh, yes."

His forehead touching hers, he tilted his pelvis, entering her, and then both of them stilled. Home. The breath whooshed out of her lungs, as he filled her so perfectly, and, for a few heartbeats, neither of them moved. Then her arms and legs wrapped themselves around his back, and, with her lips on his, she shifted her hips, encouraging him to move. Squeezing his eyes shut at the sensations which rippled through his body, he palmed her face, and, not breaking their kiss, Booth started to move.

Slowly at first, he pulled back until they were almost separated, before pushing deep inside of her in one long stroke. She gasped and moaned underneath him, her hands everywhere on his back, her inner muscles cradling him so snug and tight. She was warm and wet and perfect, and, unafraid of clichés, he wanted to drown in her.

With his big frame covering her, she seemed to be so tiny, but, knowing her strength, Booth buried himself inside of her over and over again, whispering without thinking into her ear, and she met him thrust for thrust, word for word, kiss for kiss.

Outside, dawn was breaking, bathing their connected bodies in a pre-golden light, and, opening his eyes, he found her gaze on him, so blue, so deep, so unmasked. A wide smile spread out on his face, and he brushed her nose with his.

"Hey," he whispered, and she rewarded him with a matching smile.

"Hey yourself."

"You're ready to fall?"

"I don't know- _oh_..."

He was moving in her, over her, with her; touching her in ways nobody before him had ever been able to. Her whole body was humming, friction building, and, unable to move anymore, she simply clung to him, surrendering herself to his thrusts. His fingers in her hair, his mouth close to her ear, he whispered,

"Let go."

"You first," she managed to utter, squeezing her silken inner walls until he saw stars.

"Not fair."

Despite his wish to last, his need for her to come first, he trembled and broke above her, releasing a guttural cry, and the moment his hot seed shot into her, she lost it as well, clenching around him in a rhythm as old as time.

A cry, a moan, arms clutching, fingernails sinking into warm skin. Breaths mingling, lips finding each other anew in a kiss so languid, so sated.

Unwilling to release him, her ankles stayed crossed behind his back, her fingers whispering lazily over his skin, and he was lying there, just breathing. Moments or minutes later, he rolled down from her, taking her with him until she was tucked into the crook of his arm. Smoothing her disheveled hair, he kissed her again. And again. And then she kissed him. Just because. Touched by the early light of the new day, they took in each other, intimacy and beauty. Something so utterly familiar but yet so new.

She was the first to smile, and he traced her full lips with his finger.

There were so many feelings inside of him, and she felt them as well, but both of them were unable to put them into words. And just like this, with their bodies still cooling down, sleep caught them once more, capturing them in the embrace of lovers.

-BONES-

When she awoke the next time, bright daylight was shining in, and the musky scent of their lovemaking was lingering in the sheets beneath them. Braced on his elbow, Booth was looking down on her, a big grin curving up his lips as he noticed that she was awake, followed by two fingers brushing a curl out of her face.

"Good morning sunshine," he smiled, and she rolled her eyes at his cheerfulness.

"Stop renaming me."

Lowering his head, he kissed her softly.

"Good morning beautiful."

"It appears that intercourse has made you overly sentimental," she answered, unable to hide her playfulness, though.

"Good morning Bones," he tried again, and she caressed his stubbly cheek.

"Good morning Booth."

Freeing herself out of his arms, she tried to get up, but at her movements, a flicker of insecurity washed over his face. Swallowing hard, he let go of her nonetheless. She watched him for a moment, and her chest felt almost painfully tight at the sight of him so... bare.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Then I'll come back with coffee," she informed him, and his eyebrows arched up.

"You're not leaving?"

"No."

Cheerfulness found its way back onto his face, and he looked so young, so carefree that she lingered one moment longer.

"Are you happy?"

Biting his lips not to burst out how happy exactly he was, he nodded wildly, and the sun rose on her face.

"Good. Don't move."

She got up on wobbly legs, the most exquisite kind of ache telling the story of their late-night activities. In his bathroom mirror she saw the same glow of happiness she had just noticed on his face, and, between her legs, she found dampness. His seed mingled with her own fluids. Using a Kleenex, she wiped it away, but the joy inside of her remained.

They had made love. They hadn't been driven by the desperate need to comfort each other nor had it been hasty desire overwhelming them. It had just been a slow and sweet kind of lovemaking. Born out of affection and happiness. The universe hadn't collapsed, they were still there. Only... altered.

She felt good. Sated, surprisingly calm and, yes, cherished.

Brushing her teeth with the spare toothbrush he had given her last night, she recalled his hands on her, and something inside of her belly fluttered at the memory. She could probably need a shower, but somehow she didn't want to wash away his scent, so she slipped into his bathrobe before making her way into his kitchen. Coffee.

Meanwhile in the other room, Booth was staring at his ceiling. Next to him was an empty space, her space, and he found one of her long, brown hairs on his pillow. Evidence. His heart clenched in a sweet way, and he inhaled deeply. He was in love with her, madly and unchangeable in love with her. He wanted to grab her, bury her underneath his body, wrap her into his love forever. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his brow with his palm.

_Don't tell her, show her. Step after step._

He could hear her rummaging around in his kitchen, and then the coffee machine started with a gurgling noise. It was Saturday. Maybe he could keep her for the day. Or much longer. Taking one more deep breath, he remembered her open responsiveness last night. So far, she hadn't left. She had wanted him, this. Maybe there was no need to convince her to stay. Maybe she just wouldn't go.

Suddenly sensing her presence, he turned his head, and there she was. His robe way too big for her, bare legs, hair in disarray, two mugs in her hands – just like he had remembered it.

"Oh God, you're so beautiful," he mumbled before he could stop himself, and she looked away at his adoration, bowing her head almost shyly.

Unruly hair, no make-up, in need of a shower... she didn't try to rationalize his words, though, because she had seen it firsthand in the mirror, the glow on her face. The glow he had put there.

"You're fairly beautiful yourself," she responded, and he groaned.

"Men are not beautiful."

Approaching him, she gave him one mug full of fresh coffee.

"No, men are not. But _you_ are."

Her voice was calm and candid, and he swallowed his words of protest.

"Thanks."

"What... what now?" she asked, sipping her coffee while watching him with wide blue eyes.

Playing with her free hand absentmindedly, he shrugged.

"Whatever you want."

"I... I like being with you."

His fingers grazed her knuckles.

"Works for me."

She eyed him incredulously.

"What about marriage, children and thirty, forty, fifty years?"

Taking a sip of his own coffee, he tried to calm his racing heart.

"You wanna marry me?"

"No! I mean, I don't know. I haven't thought of it."

"Then don't think of it now."

"And that's okay for you? Last time you wanted..."

Her voice trailed off, and he sought her gaze.

"I've only ever wanted you. I should have said so."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

-BONES-

She had left sometime before noon. Morning coffee had led to cuddling, had led to more kisses, but, at some point, she had gotten up. He had watched her from his place in bed while she had collected her clothes, while she had disappeared into the bathroom, coming back a few minutes later. Had just watched her. Granted, it had been hard. He hadn't wanted to let her go, but, taking a deep breath, he had understood that he had to. She had to leave in order to come back – and it had to be her choice.

Brennan had looked unsure herself, gnawing her lip before leaning in to kiss him goodbye. Softly. Promising.

Then she was gone, about to do whatever she did on a normal Saturday.

He wouldn't wait for her. Of course, in the grander scheme of things, he would always wait for her, Booth knew that by now, and it was okay, but he wouldn't waste this sunny Saturday brooding in his apartment. He had waited long enough. It was about time to live again.

The sun was warm, the birds chirping, murderers resting. He was alive.

To be continued...

_This is a positive and hopeful last line, no need to worry. Everything will be fine, I promise. _


	8. The Questions in the Morning

IIX. The Questions in the Morning

The day grew older while he left his bed, took a shower, did the laundry. In another part of the city, Brennan was writing. A steamy bedroom scene – surprise – and it went quite well, but when her female character started to moan "Booth", she slammed her laptop shut. Reality had interfered with her fictional world, but then again, today her fictional world had been built upon reality in the first place, so it was fair somehow.

He had let her go. Had invited her into his bed, made love to her in the dusky hours of night, and then he had let her go without questions, without strings. Brennan knew the concept of string-less sex firsthand – and even if she hadn't known herself, she had a very talkative and open-minded best friend – but everything she knew about it, couldn't be applied to Booth. They'd always had strings, a lot of them, and, more than once, those strings had kept her from falling. With Booth, strings had always been a good thing. Why had he let her go so easily?

Getting up from her chair, Brennan roamed the room aimlessly, rearranging some artifacts, brushing a dusty spot away.

She was fairly certain that he wanted more than sex. Whenever they had talked about the possibility of _them_, it had always been about more than sex, straight from the beginning. He had told her about his gambling problem before kissing her for the first time, had made it about more than just intercourse right from the start. Earlier this year, they had burned a piece of paper. Set a date. And when she had been lying underneath him for the first time, it hadn't been mindless desire but comfort and the strongest kind of connection she had ever felt. No, it couldn't be just sex.

She wanted more than sex from him. Brennan wasn't brave enough to put her yearning into clear words, at least not yet, but she wanted the closeness, the belonging. Did he know that? And did he really want the same? Groaning in frustration, she realized that she couldn't solve that riddle by herself and grabbed her phone.

He answered on the second ring.

"Yeah?"

"Booth."

"Hey, Bones."

He didn't tell her that he was currently pushing a shopping cart through the cereals aisle. He most definitely wouldn't tell her that, except for Cocoa Puffs, he had never purchased any item from this aisle before. However, he had the wish to provide her with breakfast she would approve of the next time she'd spend the night at his place. He was gambler enough to hope for a next time.

"I... Last night... that has been more than intercourse, hasn't it?"

A deep breath.

"Yes."

"And, to be clear, you want more than just intercourse from me?"

And another one.

"Yes."

"Thank you. I'll call you again."

He disconnected the call with a smile and grabbed a box of something that looked like healthy dust. Maybe he should get some fresh fruits as well. Whistling, he turned around with his cart, the gambler inside of him putting his money on her steep learning curve.

-BONES-

So, she had been right. The attraction between them was more than merely physical, she hadn't been the only one feeling it. Nodding in grim satisfaction, Brennan added the confirmed information to her puzzle. Still, she didn't know why he hadn't tried to hold her back this morning.

Fetching a bottle of cold water out of her fridge, she thought of a different approach. If he had asked her to stay, asked her to label this wonderful thing between them... What had she done? She would have stayed, for him, she knew that. But she wouldn't have been able to answer the unasked questions.

_The definition of insanity..._

Her mind completed the overused quote, and she stopped mid-track. Maybe that was the reason. Taking a sip out of her bottle, she considered it. Could it be that the uncertain "outcome" had never been them being together but just her own reaction to it? Maybe, in order to avoid the same heart-crushing despair, he had tried to do it in a different way. Had tried to avoid as many potential pitfalls as possible. Warmth flooded her chest, as she pondered the possibility. Could he be so considerate?

_He could. He would._

Brennan smiled at that unfamiliar but certain voice inside of her. Gut feelings? Heart speaking? Booth would be so very proud of her. Booth...

Plopping onto her couch, she embraced the onslaught of memories. The way he had touched her, had kissed her, had whispered his name for her while moving inside of her. And, even before that, the feeling of safety upon falling asleep in his arms. She wasn't one to indulge in daydreams, had never been, but, today, she allowed herself to revel in the memories. Between her legs, she could still feel a pleasant kind of soreness, and, outside, the sun was shining.

-BONES-

She called again a few hours later.

"Booth?"

"Hey Bones."

"I was just wondering... What are you doing?"

"Right now? Putting on my running shoes. Wanna join me?"

"Your usual route?"

She knew his ten-mile-run by heart.

"Yeah."

"I'll be the first one at the coffee cart."

He laughed out.

"Deal."

The sunshine was indeed as warm as it had promised to be, and upon reaching the running trail, Brennan fell into a steady rhythm, enjoying the feeling of her muscles stretching. She spotted him about twenty minutes into her run, the backside of his gray shirt already darkened with sweat.

His sweat... Heat that had nothing to do with her current exertion flooded her belly, and she sped up to catch up with him.

Booth's head flung around, as he heard footfalls next to his.

"You're late," he uttered, and maybe it was just a literal observation, but... maybe more than that.

"Yes, but I'm fast."

His lips curved up.

"I know."

"Coffee cart?"

"Coffee cart."

They ran without words for a while, but, every now and then, his hip bumped hers, and, accepting the challenge, she grabbed his arm, as the coffee cart was in sight, racing without thinking. From behind, she could hear his heavy breaths, and just when she was about to hit the wooden wall of the coffee cart, she felt his arms around her waist, lifting her and whirling her around. An uncharacteristic squeal left her lips.

"Booth!"

Outstretching one hand, he touched the wall, holding her effortlessly with his other arm.

"First."

"That was not fair!"

"But pulling at my arm was?"

"That was... that was..."

Her mouth closed again, knowing that he had made a point. Still, she looked up at him with that special frown between her eyes. Suddenly, he found the whole situation so funny that he had to laugh, loudly and breathlessly, and because she could impossibly keep up her annoyance, she joined in shortly after. Wriggling one hand free, she poked his firm belly.

"I could have won."

His laughter subsided to a chuckle, but his words were calm and candid.

"I know. Can I tell you a secret?"

She nodded while tilting her head, her feet still dangling a few inches above the ground.

"I'm always a tad faster when I run with you. You challenge me. Make me better."

"That sounds like a compliment."

"I'm glad 'cause it has been one."

Lowering his head, he brushed her nose with his, but then his gaze met hers, and... something shifted. Her eyes were so... and yes, he knew that she would probably say that you cannot see something in a person's eyes, but, still... she didn't hide. Nothing. There was yesterday in her eyes as well as this very moment and five years ago. And tomorrow.

Stretching herself in his arms, she offered him her lips, and, without thinking twice, he accepted – tasting sunshine, salty sweat and her. Loosening his hold on her, he let her slide down until she was standing on her own feet; until she was embracing him not because he was holding her, but because she had chosen to. It was a slow kiss, not very long, but it was the first kiss they had ever shared while the sun was shining down on them. Literally speaking, of course, because even though it could be true in a figurative way as well, that would be too mushy, and Booth and Brennan weren't mushy.

They were just two people who had met at some point and chosen to stay together. Between then and now, they had chosen the very same thing over and over again, before, finally, their paths had melted into one as much as two people lives can ever blend into each other.

"You wanna go home?"

"Yes."

Upon unspoken agreement, "home" turned out to be his place, and she was following him in her car. Glad that she had brought spare clothes, Brennan accepted the offer to use his shower, and half an hour later, they found themselves on his rooftop again, the one with the beautiful view.

She hadn't bothered to dry her hair, and he found it irrationally cute how the damp tendrils curled around her rosy face. He was wearing another gray shirt, his scent fresh and clean, and some primeval part deep inside of her missed the former trace of sweat.

The sun was already hiding behind the roofs surrounding them, and she twisted a glass of wine in her hand while he took a sip of beer every once in a while. Eventually, the air was vibrating with a dusky pink glow, and he turned his head.

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"When you left today, I wanted you to stay, you know that, right?"

She flashed him a proud beam.

"I figured so."

"I'm glad you came back."

"I had to. After all, that was the reason, wasn't it?"

"So... you understood."

"Yes. Still... the last time," she took a deep breath and the next words tumbled out of her mouth almost as one, "the last time you wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with me... it felt so complicated. And now you're making it so easy. I still find it hard to grasp that."

He shrugged.

"The last time didn't work so well, did it?"

"Booth... what would you do if it weren't me?"

Tilting his head, he gulped down some beer.

"Hmm... date her. Get to know her. But, Bones, if it weren't you, I wouldn't know yet that I can trust you with my life. Wouldn't know how great we are together. I wouldn't know you." Stretching out his hand, he tapped her breast bone with his fingers. "It just wouldn't be you."

"So... the way it has happened is a good thing after all?"

"It is because it's ours."

She pondered his words for a while, tasting her wine.

"Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"The next time you want me to stay... just say so."

"Stay."

"What?"

"Stay."

"Now?"

"Always. I'll always want you to stay. But... I know that you'll have to go every now and then. It's okay, as long as you come back."

"I will come back."

_Always_, the word was on her tongue, but she was a scientist, and she couldn't promise something so impossible to be promised. Silence stretched between them while she tried to find her compromise, but, like so often, he saved her.

"Would you say 'always' if you could reenforce it in a rational manner?"

"Yes!"

She regarded him with wide eyes.

"You could say, 'I will _always_ come back to you, _irrationally speaking_.'"

Her face lit up, as she accepted his logic.

"That works!"

"Yeah, maybe _I_ am the genius between the two of us."

"Sometimes I think the same... irrationally speaking."

"Don't overuse it, Bones, don't overuse it."

After a brief moment of hesitation, he outstretched his arm, pulling her closer, and something inside of him fell silently into place, as her head came to a rest on his shoulder.

"Booth... do you still want to have me the way you once wanted to?"

Her voice was almost as soft as the light of the vanishing sun.

"Yes. Maybe even more."

"I... I like that. And... please."

"You and me, Bones?"

She didn't miss the careful joy in his voice.

"You and me, Booth," she confirmed, and he squeezed her gently.

One moment later, he took the wineglass from her, placing it next to his bottle on the floor, and then his hand was cupping her cheek, turning her face towards him.

"Just to be clear, this is a romance, Baby."

"Just to be clear, don't call me Baby. I'm Bones."

"Yes, you are."

Then his mouth was on hers, pressure as light as a butterfly's wing, and he brushed the smoothness of her lips with his.

"Can I call you Temperance?"

"Can I call you _Seeley_?"

He cringed inwardly.

"Uh... point taken."

And then he didn't call her anything anymore, as he lost himself in the warmth of her mouth. She tasted like wine, he tasted like beer, and somehow it wasn't a contradiction at all. They kissed for a long time, kissed until she felt lightheaded – from happiness or lack of oxygen, who cares – and when he started to remove her clothes, when she revealed the shimmering skin underneath his own garments, the narrow curve of the moon was their only witness, bathing them in an almost ethereal silvery light.

She shivered, as his rough fingertips whispered over the sensitive skin of her breasts; he held his breath, as she kissed every single scar cut into his body as if she could make them go away.

Stars begun to sparkle on the firmament, as he learned her taste; as she returned the favor and tasted him as well, and when he pulled her into his lap, neither of them felt the chill of the early-autumn night air. His back braced against the narrow wall, he held her in his arms, the pale skin of her naked body shimmering like ivory in the moonlight.

With his lips on hers, Brennan lifted herself until she could take him in, sliding onto him in one graceful move, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hands flew to her hips, thumbs digging into skin while he held her in place, and she wrapped her arms around his back, her face burrowed in the crook of his neck, as she started to rock.

Between her legs, the world was vibrating, and everywhere around her was his warmth, his scent. His hands left her hips to slide around her, pressing into the small of her back while deepening their connection. She was so soft, so responsive, snuggling up to him as close as she ever could, her fingers shimming over his skin, and he was inside of her.

_You and me..._

A thrill of joy rushed through his veins.

"You're mine," he whispered into her ear, lingering one moment to lick her earlobe, and she trembled.

"Technically, one cannot possess-"

"You are mine. And I'm yours."

This time he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, biting lightly.

"Technically-"

"Mine," he growled, and she squeezed her inner walls to get his attention. And, wow, she got it... He gasped, thrusting involuntarily into her.

"Let me finish, Booth." Her voice was just a little bit hoarse. "I wanted to say that, even though the idea of possessing another human being is ludicrous, I feel the need to claim you as well. So... yes. I'm yours. And you are mine."

Wrapping his arms completely around her, he held her tight to his chest, as he stroked her deeply from below.

"I love this," he breathed, and she turned her head to press open-mouthed kisses on his rough cheek.

"Yes. How could we last so long not doing... _oh_..."

He had found the perfect spot inside of her, and her eyes almost crossed in pleasure.

"Booth..."

The tell-tale fluttering of her muscles around him begun, and he sought her lips, licking and sucking and drinking her. Suddenly, her head fell back on a gasp, breaking the kiss, her throat exposed to him, and he rocked her through her orgasm, told her how beautiful she was, how sexy, how absolutely and breathtakingly wonderful. He managed to last, managed to keep up his rhythm until she opened her unfocused eyes and he fell into her dark pale blue.

Clutching her hard, he came deep inside of her, shaking underneath her, and now it was her turn to whisper into his ear. How strong he was, how good he felt, how much she wanted to hold him, just hold him.

And then neither of them was speaking anymore, and only the moonlight remained.

Later, when their bodies had cooled down, finally registering the crisp night air, he led her downstairs.

And she stayed.

To be continued...

_Sigh, next one might already be the epilogue...I hope you enjoyed it – I did._


	9. Epilogue: The Place They Found

IX. Epilogue (The Place They Found)

Can a relationship between two people who were so fundamentally different, who had a history of disagreeing, be easy? The unexpected but exhilarating answer would be yes. Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth bickered and challenged each other, but they didn't fight. Neither of them doubted the other one's commitment, and even though they had yet to verbalize their feelings for each other, both of them got the message a thousand times over each day.

"I brought you lunch, Booth." Message sent.

"Thanks for the flowers." Message received.

"I, uh, I tried to iron your blouse. Sorry, Bones, I'll buy you a new one." Message sent.

"You've emptied a drawer for me..." Message received.

They were spending time at his apartment or at hers. She watched a game with him every now and then, and he attended some lectures with her and only fell asleep once. They run together, went to the movies, met their friends. And, of course, there was work.

So little had changed and yet everything. There was no need to find excuses to spend the evening together, and when she felt the sudden need to hug him – she was still trying to regain some control over those impulses – she was allowed to. More than allowed because her physical affection never failed to please him deeply.

After years of floating, they were somehow floating again, but this time, and that made the difference, on the other side of the line. It was the best king of floating ever.

Sometimes she lost track of time at the lab, crawling into bed next to him in the wee hours of morning, and, always, in sleep he turned to her, drawing her into his arms. Sometimes she had a hard day, and he was there to catch her; other times it was Brennan who did the catching.

Once she had promised Hank to hug Booth whenever he'd need it. She hadn't informed the older man how superfluous his request had been, even back then, because they'd already made their rock-solid agreement. _Whenever I get scared, you hug me_.

Happy hugs had come later, and now there was no specific rule for hugs anymore. They just happened. In the dusky hours of morning between sleep-warm sheets, after breakfast when they said goodbye to each other for the day, in the evening when they came home to each other. Their hugs were reassuring, comforting, sweet. Some of them were full of promises and heat, leading to more, some were just... it.

Brennan and Booth had agreed to move on together, to share a path, and, without further ado, that was exactly what they did.

They navigated through the golden days of autumn, adjusting to the new _them_, and when the days got colder, they had settled into a lasting kind of warmth. October deepened and went by, and then there came November, an old acquaintance in its wake. The envelope was white and heavy, both of their names on it but only his address.

"Hey, Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

"We've got an invitation for Thanksgiving."

"Whom is it from?"

"Gordon Gordon."

The former psychologist turned chef . The man who had always seen right through them.

They accepted gratefully, and when they arrived at the given address one late November day, the delicious smell made it pretty clear that the invitation had come from Gordon Gordon the chef and not the psychologist.

The gray-haired man opened the door, wearing a smile and an apron.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth. You look splendid!"

"Thank you."

Brennan let him kiss her cheek, Booth opted for a manly handshake.

"Your invitation has been a pleasant surprise."

"Indeed, hasn't it?"

"A big one," Booth added.

"Ah, well, I'm leaving this country and my current profession behind, but before boarding my plane to Europe, I felt the need to see the two of you one more time. To speak freely, you've always intrigued me, and, since it's Thanksgiving, I found it fitting to say thank you and goodbye to you."

"You are leaving?"

"Yes. I've bought a little house in a French fishing village where I will dedicate my precious time to the novel I'm currently writing."

Brennan looked irritated.

"You're changing profession once again?"

"Dr. Brennan, life is short, so ephemeral. In the blink of an eye, everything can be over, and I've never wanted to limit my options. I've enjoyed being a chef, and now I will enjoy being an author. But for tonight... let's feast and revel in happy memories, shall we? After all, they are all we can really take with us."

He led them to a candle-lit table. The wine was rich, the food exquisite, and, soon, stories of the past and laughter of the present were filling the room. The evening felt like out of a fairytale, and, upon sipping his deep red wine, Booth watched how Brennan threw her head back in glee, and, suddenly, he was mesmerized by the reflection of light in her hair. Outstretching his hand, he tucked a loose curl behind her ear, and she rewarded him with a smile. It was a brief moment of intimacy, but, of course, the ever-observant Gordon Gordon caught it and stilled.

"May I... may I ask a question beyond my remit as a chef?"

"You mean a shrinky question?" Booth asked with a smirk.

"More like a friendly question. The two of you... Something has changed fundamentally, hasn't it?"

Brennan and Booth exchanged a glance, but he was the first to speak.

"So, you truly didn't know?"

"Frankly, I might have heard the one or other thing, but I've never indulged in gossiping."

Brennan reached for Booth's hand as if needing the connection.

"We're in a relationship," she confirmed, and Gordon Gordon nodded slowly.

"But then again, you've always been."

"Back then... you knew that I stayed for him, didn't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Dr. Brennan, of course I did. But _you_ haven't been ready to know."

"So you've told us what we needed to hear?"

"I've told you what you wanted to believe. Sometimes, heart and brain need some time to act in sync, and we seek refuge in words to justify decisions made by the heart."

"Well," one more smile between the partners, "our hearts and brains are perfectly in sync now."

The older man raised his glass.

"I wanna make a toast. To love, the one thing we should truly be thankful for. Today and always."

Glasses clanged, words were whispered, the evening continued.

_To love..._

Later, much later they called a cab to get home, and in the dim-lit backseat, her head fell onto his shoulder.

"I find it very courageous, the way he is leading his life," she stated, and he hummed.

"It's all about happiness. Some people find it in change, others in stability."

"Angela would say that he is leading a wide life."

"Yeah, but Angela is the happy lady with a husband and a baby."

"So it's truly about nothing but happiness?"

Brennan could feel him nod beside her and snuggled up even closer to him. His arm came around her shoulder, cradling her safely.

"It's about places. Where you are, where you wanna go and whom you are going with."

"I'm with you," she simply said, and Booth squeezed her lovingly.

"And that's the best place I've ever been."

Taking in his words, she acknowledged their rightness, and something inside of her shifted and clicked.

"I love you, Booth."

His breath stopped, and his arm around her flinched – but not to push her away, only to hold her even tighter. And then he exhaled slowly.

"_This_ is the best place ever..."

In the privacy of the cab, the soothing sound of the car's engine surrounding them, she felt brave enough to ask.

"Do you love me as well?"

He laughed out roughly, pressing his lips into the sweet scent of her hair.

"I've loved you when I've thrown those knives at you. I've loved you at fancy parties and gross crime scenes. I've loved you in a dream, in an airport hall, in a helicopter. I've loved you when you came to my bed crying. I've loved you even more when I woke up with you in my arms. I've loved you so much that it hurt. And then some. And now I love you because you make me laugh and warm and happy."

Moisture was pooling in her eyes, and, in the darkness, she blinked it away.

"This is our place, Booth."

"I know. It has always been, Bones."

Roads you take, decisions you make, fights you fight – sometimes, they make you raw inside, make you doubt the course you've chosen. Sometimes, you give up, change track. Sometimes, it leads you nowhere.

But then, sometimes, it leads you anywhere.

And, suddenly, you have everything you've ever dared to hope for. And more.

Between the first angry breath of a newborn and the last exhale of death, you awake day after day to make choices. And maybe you're lucky enough to realize that the world is your stage.

There's drama, there's romance, there's comedy.

Your influence is there, but it's limited. So much between heaven and earth will never be yours to decide. Some things, the really important things, they just happen. They simply don't know how not to. And if you've missed your chance... once, twice, a hundred times... don't waver, don't be sad.

The things that are meant to be will always find their way. There is always that one road which will bring you home.

Isn't that reassuring?

The end.

_Thank you so much for following this story, and thanks for your kind words. This story has been wonderful to write. I might do the baby-free thing again ;-)_


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